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school-fellow, Barnes,) who always reminds me of Fielding. It was he that introduced me to A. (Alsager), the kindest of neighbors, a man of business, who contrived to be a scholar and a musician. He loved his leisure, and yet would start up at

a minute's notice to do the least of a prison

er's biddings. Other friends are dead since
that time, and others gone. I have tears
for the kindest of them, and the mistaken
shall not be reproached, if I can help it.
But what return can I make to the L's.
(Lambs), who came to comfort one in all
weathers, hail or sunshine, in daylight or
in darkness, even in the dreadful frost and
snow of the beginning of 1814?
Great disappointment and exceeding vi-
ciousness may talk as they please of the
badness of human nature; for my part, I
am on the verge of forty, and I have seen a
good deal of the world, the dark side as well
as the light, and I say that human nature is
a very good and kindly thing, and capable
of all sorts of excellence. Art thou not a
refutation of all that can be said against it,
excellent Sir John Surnburne ?-another
friend whom I made in prison, and whose
image, now before my imagination, fills my
whole frame with emotion. I could kneel
before him and bring his hand upon my
head, like a son asking his father's blessing.
It was during my imprisonment that another
S. (Mr. Shelley), afterwards my friend of
friends, now no more, made me a princely
offer, which at that time I stood in no need
of. I will take this opportunity of men-
tioning, that some other persons, not at all
known to us, offered to raise money enough
to pay the fine of £1,000."

Hunt's dedications display a frankness and cordiality which remind us of the noble old writers of hale and hearty Eng.

land. I select the one prefixed to Foliage,
a volume of poetry and translations pub-
lished in London in 1818: "To Sir John
Edward Surnburne, Bart. My Dear Sir
John: This book belongs to you, if you
will accept it. You are not one of those
who pay the strange compliment to hea-
ven of depreciating this world, because
you believe in another; you admire its
beauties both in nature and art; you
think that a knowledge of the finest voices
it has uttered, ancient as well as modern,
ought, even in gratitude, to be shared by
the sex that has inspired so many of
them. A rational piety and a manly
patriotism does not hinder you from put-
ting the Phidian Jupiter over your organ,
or flowers at the end of your room; in
short, you who visit the sick and the
prisoner, for the sake of helping them
without frightening, cannot look more
tenderly after others than you are re-
garded by your own family; nor can any
one of the manly and amiable friends that
I have the happiness of possessing, more
fitly receive a book, the object of which
is to cultivate a love of nature out of doors,
and of sociality within. Pray pardon me
this public compliment, for my own sake,
and for sincerity's. That you may long
continue to be the centre of kind, happy
looks, and an example to the once cheer-
ful gentry of this war and money-injured
land, is the constant wish of your obliged
and affectionate servant, Leigh Hunt."

To conclude, I will copy two sonnets, and parts of two epistles, showing the graceful and kind-hearted intercourse that subsists between Hunt and his friends:

TO THOMAS BARNES, ESQ.

Written from Hampstead.

Dear Barnes, whose native taste, solid and clear,
The throng of life has strengthened without harm,
You know the rural feeling, and the charm
That stillness has for a world-fretted ear ;-
'Tis now deep whispering all about me here,
With thousand tiny hushings like a swarm
Of atom-bees, or fairies in alarm,

Or noise of numerous bliss from distant sphere.

This charm our evening hours duly restore;
Naught heard through all our little, lulled abode,
Save the crisp fire, or leaf of book turned o'er,
Or watch-dog, or the ring of frosty road.

Wants there no other sound, then? Yes, one more—
The voice of friendly visiting, long owed.

the whole of it, up to its extremest limits; and as little doubt did he seem to enter tain, as long ago as the 15th of June, that the Rio Grande constituted its western boundary. Gen. Taylor was then so instructed. Under instructions, he took up a position in Texas, "beyond the Nueces," and this occupation was designed expressly for the protection and defence of Texas-not of Texas on this side of that river only, but of Texas wherever Texas was, and wherever Texans were. By orders of the 13th of July, he was to protect and defend "the territory of Texas, to the extent that it has been occupied by the people of Texas." "The Rio Grande is claimed to be the boundary between the two countries, and up to this boundary you are to extend your protection-only excepting any posts on the eastern side thereof, which are in the actual occupancy of Mexican forces, or Mexican settlements over which the Republic of Texas did not exercise jurisdiction at the period of Annexation, or shortly before that event." Such were then the General's orders; and under them, and to fulfill them to the letter, he selected and maintained his position on the west bank of the Nueces. What we want to know is: what had happened, on or about the 13th of January, to create such an urgent necessity" for directing his position to be changed from the Nueces to the Rio Grande? and that change to be made, too, wholly regardless of any Mexican posts or Mexican settlements on this side of that river! Up to that time the "Army of Occupation," in its position at Corpus Christi, had served abundantly to protect Texas, and the whole of it, to the extent that it had been occupied by the people of Texas, and strictly in accordance with the orders of the 15th of June, and the 30th of July. No war had been declared, and Texas had not been invaded; and all apprehension that it would be was past. No such apprehension was sincerely felt either in the camp or in the cabinet. We have furnished the proof of this significant fact already. We ask again then wherefore the orders of the 13th of January? What were the grounds of that " urgent necessity" which then arose to provide especially for the better defence of "that portion" of country which lies beyond the Nueces? Certainly, the President does not account for it, by declaring that "meantime Texas, by the final action of our Congress, had become an integral part of our Union,”-nor by declaring, as if it

were a new idea to him, that Texas had its western boundary on the Rio Grandenor yet by talking of that boundary as "an exposed frontier," proper and convenient to be occupied by the protecting forces of the Government. On the 23d of Aug., a dispatch was written from Washington to inform General Taylor that the Administration then had "reason to believe that Mexico was making efforts to assemble a large army on the frontier of Texas" and he was instructed that, "should Mexico assemble a large body of troops on the Rio Grande, and cross it with a considerable force, such a movement must be regarded as an invasion of the United States, and the commencement of hostilities." And yet he was told in the same dispatch, that they had no more explicit instructions to give him in regard to his movements than had been already forwarded." At that time, even a danger felt to be imminent could not draw from the President a positive order to move the army to the Rio Grande; what, in the name of wonder, was it that made that order of such " urgent necessity" on the 13th of January?

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But we have not forgotten that the President had then, as he states, "received such information from Mexico as rendered it probable, if not certain, that the Mexi can Government would refuse to receive our Envoy." If the President really offers this as a reason for moving the army to the Rio Grande, then it must have been on one of two grounds: either that he intended to consider the rejection of Mr. Slidell as cause of war, or to make it, if he could, the occasion of war, with Mexico, on the part of the United States, and to lead the way to the commencement of hostilities accordingly; or, he apprehended that Mexico would follow up that act by herself making war on us, or invading Texas.

Now we are prepared to say, and maintain, that the President had not the slightest reason to believe-nor do we suppose he did believe, or would so pretend that Mexico was about to commence hostilities because she had rejected, or would reject our Minister. The subject of this mission, and the temper and manner in which it was conducted, ought to receive a full exposition in this connection. But we cannot now enter into it. We think if the object really was to conciliate the Mexican Government in the matter of Annexation-the point of offence to Mexico-nothing would have been more un

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happy than the course adopted and persisted in. And the Government should have known that such conciliation was the way both to peace, and to the securing of our just rights and interests at the hands of Mexico. But let this pass. Mexico refused to receive Mr. Slidell in the ordinary form as a Minister, resident near that Government, until he, or somebody else, had first been received as a Commissioner, to make terms with her in regard to Annexation. Such a Commissioner she professed herself willing to receive. Mr. Slidell insisted that she had promised to receive a Minister, with full powers. This she denied; and he was rejected. Now, the very grounds on which she put this rejection-however absurd, and however false-show conclusively that she did not mean war by this rejection. She meant to run the hazard of a war begun by us for such a cause; but the manner of the rejection precluded the idea of its being taken as a declaration of war on her part, or as leading necessarily to such a declaration, or to any acts of hostility. We are perfectly safe in saying, that the President did not so regard it-by anticipation or otherwise.

The other alternative then remains, namely: that he intended to consider, and so far as depended on him, to make, the rejection of Mr. Slidell, taken in connection with the unsatisfactory state of our relations with Mexico, cause of war, or rather the occasion of war with that power; and that he directed the movement of our army to the Rio Grande, by his order of the 13th of January, as a hostile operation, or at least as calculated, in its very nature, and by its necessary effects and results, to leave no alter native but war to either Government. We believe this to have been the exact state of the case. Indeed the proof that it was so is at hand, and is incontrovertible.

On the 20th of January Mr. Buchanan addresses a dispatch to Mr. Slidell, written after information had been received of the "probable" rejection of the Minister. In this dispatch the purpose of the President is fully disclosed. He tells Mr. Slidell, in case of his final rejection, that "nothing will then remain for this Government, but to take the redress of the wrongs of its citizens into its own hands." "The desire of the President is, that you [Mr. Slidell] should conduct yourself with such wisdom and firmness

in the crisis, that the voice of the American people shall be unanimous in favor of redressing the wrongs of our much-injured and long-suffering claimants." In other words, this affair was to be so conducted, that the hearts of the American people might be "prepared for war." Finally, Mr. Buchanan says: "In the mean time, the President, in anticipation of the final refusal of the Mexican Government to receive you, has ordered the Army of Texas to advance and take position on the left bank of the Rio Grande; and has directed that a strong fleet shall be immediately assembled in the Gulf of Mexico. He will thus be prepared to act with vigor and promptitude the moment that Congress shall give him the authority."

What becomes now, we ask in view of this explicit declaration, of the pretence set up by the President, that his order of the 13th of January, for the movement of the army from the Nueces to the Rio Grande, was prompted by some new and urgent necessity, "to provide for the defence of that portion of our country!" Who does not now see that that order originated in another and a very different design? The rejection of Mr. Slidell was to be the signal for war-the ostensible ground of which should be the unsatisfied claims of our citizens on the justice of Mexico. There were real objects which were not disclosed. The hearts of our people were to be prepared for the war. Congress was to be appealed to for its authority, but not-as events have demonstrated-until a hostile incursion and military demonstrations, under Executive direction, carried through Mexican settlements and Mexican military posts up to the gates of a Mexican city, more than one hundred miles beyond the remotest dwelling of any Texan citizen, and the remotest limits of Texan authority and jurisdiction, had made the war inevitable, and left Congress no alternative but to adopt and prosecute it. The President knew as well as we could tell him, that the Rio del Norte was the nominal boundary of Texas only; that Texas could not make it her boundary by her declaration merely; that the country on the east bank of that river for fifteen hundred miles, constituting parts of four provinces or departments of Mexico, with several cities -Santa Fé among the number-was inhabited exclusively by Mexicans, and was, as it had been continually, exclu sively under Mexican jurisdiction; that

TO T. M. ALSAGER, ESQ.

With the Author's miniature, on leaving prison.

Some grateful trifle let me leave with you,
Dear Alsager, whose knock at evening-fall,
And interchange of books, and kindness all,
Fresh neighborhood about my prison threw,
And buds of solace that to friendship grew;
Myself it is, who, if your study wall

Has room, would find a nestling corner small,
To catch at times a cordial glance or two.

May peace be still found there, and evening leisure
And that which gives a room both eye and heart-
The clear, warm fire that clicks along the coal;
And never harsher sound than the pure pleasure
Of lettered friend, or music's mingling art,
That fetches out in smiles the mutual soul.

EPISTLE TO CHARLES LAMB.

Oh, thou, whom old Homer would call, were he living,
Home-lover, thought-feeder, abundant-joke-giving;
Whose charity springs from deep knowledge, nor swerves
Into mere self-reflections or scornful reserves;
In short you were made for two centuries ago,
When Shakspeare drew men, and to write was to know;
You'll guess why I can't see the snow-covered streets
Without thinking of you and your visiting feats,
When you call to remembrance how you and one more,
When I wanted it most used to knock at my door.
For when the sad winds told us rain would come down,
Or snow upon snow fairly clogged up the town,
And dun-yellow fogs brooded over its white,
So that scarcely a being was seen towards night,
Then, then said the lady yclept near and dear,
"Now, mind what I tell you, the L's will be here."
So I poked up the flame, and she got out the tea,
And down we both sat, as prepared as could be;
And there, sure as Fate, came the knock of you two,
Then the lantern, the laugh, and the "Well, how d'ye do?"
Then your palm tow'rds the fire, and your face turned to me,
And shawls and great coats being-where they should be-
And due "never saws" being paid to the weather,
We cherished our knees and sat sipping together,
And leaving the world to the fogs and the fighters,
Discussed the pretensions of all sorts of writers,
Of Shakspeare's coevals-all spirits divine-

Of Chapman, whose Homer's a fine, rough old wine;
Of Marvel, wit, patriot and poet, who knew

How to give both at once Charles and Cromwell their due;
Of Spenser, who wraps you, wherever you are,
In a bower of seclusion, beneath a sweet star;

Of Richardson, too, who afflicts us so long
We begin to suspect him of nerves over strong;
In short, of all those who give full-measured page.

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EPISTLE TO WILLIAM HAZLITT.

"Et modo qua nostri spatiantur in urbe Quirites

Et modo villarum proxima rura placent."-MILTON, Eleg. 7.

"Enjoying now the range of town at ease, And now the neighboring rural villages."

Dear Hazlitt, whose tact intellectual is such

3

That it seems to feel truth as one's fingers do touch-
Who in politics, arts, metaphysics, poetics,

To critics, in these times, are health to cosmetics,

And nevertheless, or I rather should say,

For that very reason, can relish boy's play,

And turning on all sides, through pleasures and cares,
Find nothing more precious than laughs and fresh air:
One's life, I conceive, might go prettily down
In a due easy mixture of country and town-
Not after the fashion of most with two houses,
Who gossip and gape and just follow their spouses,
And, let their abode be wherever it will,

Are the same vacant-house-keeping animals still-
But with due sense of each and of all that it yields,
In the town, of the town, in the fields, of the fields;
In the one, for example, to feel as we go on,
That streets are about us, arts, people, and so on;
In t'other to value the stillness, the breeze,
And love to see farms, and to get among trees.
Each his liking, of course-so that this be the rule.
For my part, who went in the city to school,
And whenever I got in a field, felt my soul in it
Spring so, that like a young horse I could roll in it,
My inclinations are much what they were,
And cannot dispense, in the first place, with air;
But then I would have the most rural of nooks,
Just near enough town to make use of its books,
And to walk there whenever I chose to make calls,
To look at the ladies and lounge at the stalls;
To tell you the truth, I could spend very well
Whole mornings in this way, 'twixt here and Pall Mall,
And make my gloves' fingers as black as my hat,
In pulling the books up from this stall and that:
Then, turning home gently through fields and o'er stile,
Partly reading a purchase, or rhyming the while,
Take my dinner (to make a long evening) at two,
With a few droppers-in, like my cousin and you,
Who can season the talk with the right-flavored Attic,
Too witty for tattling, too wise for dogmatic;
Then take down an author whom one of us mentions,
And doat for awhile on his jokes or inventions;
Then have Mozart touched, on our bottle's completion,
Or one of your favorite trim ballads Venetian :
Then up for a walk before tea down a valley,
And so to come back through a leafy-wall'd alley,

In which the sun peeping, as into a chamber,

Looks gold on the leaves, turning some to sheer amber.
Then tea, made by one who (although my wife she be)
If Jove were to drink it, would soon be his Hebe;

Then silence a little-a creeping twilight-
Then an egg for your supper, with lettuces white,
And a moon and friend's arm to go home with at night.
Now, this I call passing a few devout hours,
Becoming a world that has friendship and flowers.

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